


foolish

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10841760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He knows he should stop this, let Noctis down gently but firmly, making sure this never happens. Again, now, at all, forever.





	1. know

(He is so, _so_ foolish.)

(He knows better than this.)

He’s suddenly very conscious of the pair of eyes watching him, of those long fingers curling to grip the lapels of his jacket, of the strong body pressed up against his own. They’re so close, he can feel the prince’s breath mingling with his. Every detail of that face is clear as day.

Time stops. His pulse is in his ears and he can’t think or breathe and he’s overwhelmed with so much _want_ it threatens to undo him completely. Noctis’s eyes flash quickly, to his lips and then back up to his eyes. His gaze is so vast, so infinite, so _trusting_. Something unspeakable passes between them, and the prince’s eyes slowly, gracefully, slide shut.

(He knows he should stop this, let Noctis down gently but firmly, making sure this never happens. Again, now, at all, forever.)

Noctis leans forward, closing the distance between them in a soft kiss.

It’s gentle and warm. Noctis kisses him so tenderly, so hesitantly, so quickly, Ignis isn’t sure if he’s imagined it.

Those midnight eyes flutter open. Uncertain, unsure, like he’s ready to run past the Rock of Ravatogh and into the sea.

(And now, Ignis really _knows_.)

(He knows exactly how foolish he is. He knows how unbelievably senseless and careless and negligent he’s been. How complacent and comfortable and contented he’s become. How he’s let down his guard, how he’s become so unobservant and slow, how he’s been so incredibly, inconceivably, unimaginably _stupid_. He knows, now, what he’s known all along. But he knows it deeper and firmer and more certain than he did before. And he is so, _so_ foolish for not figuring it out and dealing with it sooner.)

(Noctis is in love with him, too.)

(And now, he is so _screwed_.)

Noct’s lips part and a sound that resembles _sorry_ begins to come out.

(A part of his brain is yelling at him, yelling all sorts of things at him. That he should pull away right now and stop all of this and pretend it never happened. That he’s useless as an advisor to the future king now. That Noctis is young, _so_ young, and Ignis is taking advantage of it. More than anything, that if they were ever discovered, that’d be the end and he would never see Noctis again.)

Before Noctis can get the second syllable out, Ignis is pulling him close and pressing their mouths together in full force.

This time, Noctis kisses him urgently and fervently. His hesitation is gone and replaced with hot, hungry kisses. It’s unlike any other kiss Ignis has experienced and he can’t seem to figure out how to breathe with Noctis’s mouth crushing his, can’t find enough purchase without gripping helplessly at his clothes, can’t even _think_ past anything but the prince’s hands in his hair and lips moving hungrily on his.


	2. pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he knew the look in those midnight eyes as he pushed inside that tight heat, the soft melody of his own name punctuated by pleasured sighs, he could never unsee or unhear them. He could never pretend it never happened. He could never go back to normal.

Training as chamberlain and advisor meant structure and order. Rules and protocol, procedures and logistics, politics and policy, all of it had been instilled in him since childhood. He was to be Noctis’s rock, his right hand. He could not falter. To that end, they had been raised together, so that future king and advisor could befriend one another, trust one another.

(As he grew into adolescence, one thing had been mentioned only to him, only in private, never in front of others and certainly _never_ in front of Noctis.)

(There were _appropriate boundaries_ for him to maintain between he and the prince.)

(He must have been caught staring at the raven-haired Lucian heir longer than what was considered suitable for his would-be advisor and chamberlain. His uncle didn’t specify or spell it out exactly, nor did he ask any questions, but the message was clear: _you are not allowed to feel this way._ )

(Those words became a mantra he repeated over and over again to himself in his head. As the prince grew, blossomed from the clumsiness of puberty and into the maturity of adolescence, the phrase flashed behind his eyes more and more often. That was the rule, and he knew it well.)

(It took many, many years, but he managed to properly compartmentalize these things. The flutter in his chest every time he saw that smile, the fire in his veins whenever they stepped too close. Years of training, compartmentalizing, pushing down his feelings to the deepest corner of his heart. He had become quite good at pretending everything was normal and he didn’t think every night, every day, every _second_ about what it would be like to make love to the Crown Prince.)

(No matter what, he had to remain logical. There were _appropriate boundaries_ to maintain. He could never let the racing of his pulse at hearing that laugh or the catch of his breath in his throat at seeing the midnight sky in those eyes or the swell in his groin at catching a glimpse of too much skin control his brain.)

(Only a fool would let his heart rule his head.)

(And now, Ignis knows, beyond any doubt, that he is a complete and utter fool.)

Long moans and soft cries are hot in his ear, while clumsy hands fumble for purchase across his shoulders, down his back, against his ass. Demanding lips seek out his own and devour him, swallowing him whole.

He rolls his hips forward and back, rhythmically, submitting to the tight heat writhing and moaning and arching beneath him. The midnight eyes watching him through a gossamer of black bangs roll backwards, and that face flushes red and breathless. Dark hair is thrown back against the pillows, exposing miles and miles of porcelain white skin, and he surrenders to the urge to kiss and nip it pink and flushed.

Noctis groans and he orgasms wet and fast and messy between them. One, two, three more strokes, and Ignis follows suit, biting the prince’s shoulder as he comes so hard, there are stars behind his eyes.

(He knew there would be no going back after this.)

(When Noctis had finally worn him down— _please, Ignis, just this once_ —with wave after wave of hot kisses and rushed promises— _we can pretend this never happened, everything can go right back to normal_ —he knew. He knew he was done for.)

(Now that he knew the look in those midnight eyes as he pushed inside that tight heat, the soft melody of his own name punctuated by pleasured sighs, he could never unsee or unhear them. He could never pretend it never happened. He could never go back to normal.)

Noctis whimpers in his ear.

_Ignis—_

He peppers kisses in ebony hair. _Yes, Highness?_

A smile tugs at the prince’s lips.

 _I’m such an idiot._ He glances up at Ignis. _Or, as you might say, so foolish._

His heart pounds in his chest. He swallows, hard, past the growing lump in his throat. _Why do you say that?_

_I can’t pretend this never happened._

Noct kisses him hard, curling his fingers into his hair. Ignis kisses him back, desperately, and Noctis whispers through their kisses, his voice soft.

_And I don’t want to._


	3. react

The prince pushes him back against the wall, then presses himself against his advisor. Kissing him hard and rough, all tongue and teeth, Noctis goes for his belt. 

Ignis can barely break away and mutter breathlessly between kisses. _Noct—_

_I wanna blow you._

Ignis nearly chokes. All of the blood in his body instantly pools between his legs. _H-Here? Now?_

Noctis chuckles, low and husky, and his voice is deep with want. _Yeah. Right here, right now._

He can see, rather than feel, his eyes widen, based on Noct’s reaction. Those eyes glitter like the night sky, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his swollen lips. Noctis dives back in for more, this time fondling at the growing swell in Ignis's trousers. 

_Is that okay?_

He can hardly suppress a soft groan, one that Noctis happily swallows with more kisses. Whatever resolve he had to say no vanishes with an involuntary jerk of his hips against Noct's hand. He can feel Noctis smile at his reaction through their kisses, and those lips are moving now, travelling along his jaw and into his ear and his hair and— _oh, gods_ —down his neck. 

(He knows how foolish this is.) 

(He knows he's supposed to say no. He's supposed to tell Noctis this is entirely inappropriate behavior for a prince and his chamberlain, especially inside the Citadel, that they could be caught by anyone at any moment—gods forbid, by Noctis's father—and they'd never see each other again, that their relationship is now completely unprofessional and ending this foolishness is for the best, he could go on.) 

His heart leaps out of his chest before his brain can catch up to stop it. 

_Yes._

Quick as lightning, Noctis is on his knees on the marble tile and pulling impatiently at Ignis's button and zipper. Ignis can't tear his eyes away and he thinks should be embarrassed or ashamed of his own voyeurism as he watches the prince pull his hard, red cock out of his pants. The thirst in Noct's eyes and the barest glance of those midnight eyes back up at him, a wide, wolfish smile on those lips, erase his modesty completely. Those long eyelashes flutter shut. 

The image of Noctis taking him into his mouth undoes every last shred of his composure. 

He throws his head back and gasps, barely aware of hitting the back of his head against the marble behind him. He grasps helplessly at Noct’s hair and a collection of soft groans fall from his lips. Faintly, he can hear Noctis laughing in his throat around his cock. 

The smile on Noct’s face is positively devilish. His voice is rough and husky with want. _Didn’t think I’d make you react like this, Specs._

He can’t help smiling at Noct’s blissful ignorance. _Well, you’re far less perceptive than I initially thought—_

He gasps sharply at the warm hand wrapping around him and stroking, at the wet heat of Noctis’s mouth swallowing him whole. The room around him swims and he feels so lightheaded and he thinks he’s going to collapse from how turned on he is. With one hand, he fumbles fruitlessly for any amount of purchase he can find, and with the other, he fists dark hair tight in his fingers. He bucks his hips into Noctis’s mouth, and Noctis, to his credit, takes him down his throat with ease. 

(Each stroke of Noctis’s mouth pulls him deeper and deeper. With each gasp, his lungs fill up with more and more _Noctis_ and he knows he’s running out of air. There’s no going back now, no retreat to the surface. He knew from the beginning he would drown, yet he had been foolish enough to believe he could swim against the current.) 

The pressure is building in his groin, so quickly he’s lost track of it and is nearly overwhelmed by it. He tries pushing Noctis off, his voice barely coherent. _Noctis, I'm close, I—_

The prince pulls off, briefly, with an exaggerated pop. 

_I want you to come in my mouth._

(His brain melts. He can feel himself forgetting everything that isn't _Noctis_ , forgetting all of that nonsense about rules and _appropriate boundaries_ and responsibilities, and suddenly all of that chastising he's been doing to himself seems so silly and—)

Noctis’s mouth is on his cock again, wet and hot and fast, and then Ignis is coming wet and messy in the Crown Prince's mouth. 

(Ignis is a stupid, _stupid_ fool.) 


End file.
